


Guide Duty

by clgfanfic



Category: Poltergeist: The Legacy, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guide and Sentinel cross paths with the Legacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guide Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Sensory Overload #2 under the pen name Becca Koldfurr.
> 
> This story is also part of Jody Norman's The Legacy Series. You can see the entire series if you go to her AO3 page.

Sitting on the couch, Jim Ellison listened to the soft strains of Celtic harp and flute, his eyes closed, all thoughts focused on relaxing.  It had been a long week full of late night stakeouts, tense mornings in court and afternoons of surveillance and endless paperwork.  He needed to unwind, badly.

Feeling the muscles still bunched across his shoulders, he sighed.  Thinking about the week and all the details that remained to be done wasn't going to help.

Drawing in a deep breath he let it out slowly, trying to allow the music to carry the stress away on gentle melodic waves.  The first stirrings of his muscles beginning to release were stopped dead when the loft door slammed shut, the force echoing from his eardrums to the sensitive skin between his toes and back again.

"Sandburg!"

"Hey, Jim!" the graduate student called in greeting.  "You're _never_ going to believe this!"

"You won the lottery and you're moving to Borneo," Ellison muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jim said, pushing himself off the couch and crossing to turn off the stereo.  Whatever it was, Sandburg was excited.  Happily excited.  It was just too much work to get mad at the grad student when he was in that mood.  "What's up, Chief?"

"This is great, man, I mean, really great.  It's the perfect opportunity to see if–"

"Whoa!" Jim interrupted, his hands coming up to fend off the enthusiasm that radiated off the younger man in tangible waves.  " _What's_ great?"

Blair sucked in a deep breath, then explained as slowly as his excitement allowed.  "The university, man, we're hosting that conference on South American Anthropology, right?"

"The one you've been talking about nonstop for the last six weeks?" Jim acknowledged dryly.  "Yeah, I'm familiar with it."

Sandburg grinned.  Had it been that long?  "Anyway," he said, "remember that fragment of Peruvian pottery that I've been working on with Yxta?"

Jim crossed to the kitchen, Blair following.  "Yeah, I remember," the detective said.  "The one you think might have something to say about sentinels."

While Ellison put water on to boil for tea, Sandburg continued.  "That's the one.  Well, one of the things we did was to invite the other two institutions who own pieces of the same artifact to attend, and bring their fragments with them.  They agreed!"

Jim shook his head.  "And, this means?"

Sandburg's eyes widened and his voice slipped into the tone he usually reserved for his most severely struggling students.  "It means we'll be able to reassemble the artifact and, maybe, just maybe, end up with an entire ancient text on sentinels!  It's even pretty close to where your senses were first awakened."

Ellison checked a smile.  Had he ever been that exhilarated about anything?  "Why were the pieces scattered in the first place?" he asked, Sandburg's excitement sparking his own curiosity.

Blair's expression slipped into full academic mode.  "Now that's a really good question," he said.  "And we don't really have an answer – yet.  It seems that at least three, maybe four pieces of the artifact were originally carried to several villages in this one area of Peru.  Now, we suspect that the villages were related through kinship ties.  Then archaeologists on different digs and anthropologists working in the extant villages turned up the artifacts independently.

"One of the pieces ended up in Paris, one in San Francisco, and one here at Rainier when it was bequeathed to the University by a professor emeritus who died last semester, although I don't know why.  Departmental gossip has it that Dr. Stewart left Rainier pretty bitter when he was turned down as department head.  And there might be more pieces out there, but we won't know until we put these three together and see if we have a whole artifact."  Sandburg stopped and drew a long breath, then grinned.  "All in all, this is going to be a really exciting weekend."

Ellison nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face.  The teakettle cried and he turned off the flame, silencing it.  "So it sounds like you're going to be busy with this thing for a while."

"A little," Blair admitted, moving to get a mug and opting for green tea from his extensive stock – all neatly arranged by Jim in one of the cabinets.  The corners of his lips turned up slightly as he watched Ellison prepare his own cup.  He'd finally converted the detective to the herbal mixtures.  Just as well; the last thing Ellison needed was more caffeine at home.  "I'm helping with conference registration, but after that I only have to deliver one paper, and work on the artifact… and sit in on a couple of panels."

"Busy," Ellison concluded, testing a sip of a Spearmint and Chamomile mixture Sandburg said was supposed to help him relax.

"Yeah, I guess so," Blair admitted.  "But if something comes up, I'll be there.  Just give me a call."

Ellison shook his head.  "Don't worry about it.  It should get a little quieter now," he said, carrying his cup back to the living room.  Sandburg followed him, both men settling on the couch.  "And I still have two more days of testimony, maybe three in the Reynold's case."

"So you should be done with the trial about the same time as the conference starts," Blair calculated.  "You should drop by–"

Ellison held up a hand as he took another swallow of the tea, then shook his head.  "An academic conference isn't my idea of fun, Chief."

"I didn't say you should sit in on all the panels, Jim," Blair countered with a grin.  "Even I'd get bored doing that.  What I meant was you should drop by and take a look at the artifact."

"What is it, exactly?"

"We're not sure.  It's not an obvious chest, or vase, or cooking pot, water pot… we're not sure.  Guess we'll find out when we get it put together – if we actually have all of the pieces.  Like I said, there might be more that haven't been recovered."

"Maybe I'll do that," Jim said, enjoying the younger man's bottomless enthusiasm.  "But I'm not promising anything."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The man watching the careful packing of the ancient artifact was tall and distinguished looking.  Wayward locks of gray-brown hair curled loosely around his sharp-boned face, softening the otherwise too-intense expression.  Realizing that he was making the museum worker nervous with his earnest scrutiny, he stalked across the room, confident and poised.  Dark hazel eyes read the small card that described the artifact when it had rested in the glass exhibition case: _Peruvian, circa 1600 BCE, possible ceremonial or ritual object_.

He turned and walked back to the bench where Teresa McFadden used several small nails to seal the small wooden crate that held the case and artifact.  She smiled up at him.  "I wish I was going.  This conference sounds like it'll be very interesting."

Derek nodded.  Teresa, a graduate student in Museum Science at a local university, was one of two interns currently working at the Winston Rayne Hall of Antiquities.  He planned on offering the young woman a full-time job when she completed her degree, but hadn't found the right opportunity to tell her.

"Maybe next year you'll be able to go."

"I hope so," she said wistfully.  "If I didn't have a paper and a midterm to finish, I'd sneak away this time."

She handed the small crate over to Derek and he accepted it with a smile.  "Thank you, Teresa."

"Tell me what you find out.  I'd love to know what that object's supposed to be."

"With luck, we'll find out," Derek said, turning to go.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Hearing footsteps echoing down the empty hallway, Blair looked up from the where he was working on Rainier's section of the mystery object.  Two men, he guessed.  He waited until they entered the large workroom, recognizing Dr. Derek Rayne immediately.  He smiled and waited for them to maneuver around the work tables scattered in the cabinet-lined room to reach him.  Rayne looked just like Sandburg remembered: tall, distinguished, with mad-scientist hair and a perpetual intense expression.  An air of authority and duty came naturally to the man, but there was evidence of the price paid – Rayne's dark eyes held both great wisdom and great sadness, and Sandburg couldn't help but wonder what all the man had seen.

Rayne's companion was younger, about his own age, Blair guessed.  He moved confidently, quietly.  _Like Jim_ , he realized.

"Doctor Rayne, it's good to see you," he said, extending his hand.  Rayne shook it.  "I hope your flight was smooth?"

"Yes, quite," Derek said, his gaze flickering to the younger man at his side and back.  "It was a private flight."

"Ah," Blair said, nodding.  "That's the way to go."  He extended his hand to the younger man.  "Blair Sandburg."

"Nick Boyle," he replied, a friendly grin on his face as he shook Sandburg's hand.  "Professor Sandburg?"

"Don't I wish," Blair muttered.  "No, just grad-student-slave-Sandburg.  I'm A-B-D."

Nick's blank look prompted Derek to translate, "All but dissertation."

"Ah," Nick said.  "Close, but not close enough."

"You've got it."  Blair's gaze focused on the small wooden crate Nick carried.  "Is that another piece of the artifact?"

"Yes," Derek said, moving to examine the Rainier fragment, which rested on a piece of red velvet cloth set in the middle of one of the work tables.

"Great," Blair said, watching Nick set the crate down on the empty end of the table.  "Professor Beaumont should be getting in about now.  I'd like to reassemble the artifact tonight, if that's all right.  Our expert wants as much time with the entire artifact as possible."

"Who will be doing the interpretation of the carvings?" Derek asked as Nick held the crate still while he removed the traveling case inside.

"One of our new hires, Yxta Ayala.  She's a linguistic anthropologist and an expert in Peruvian history, pre-contact through 1750; but the early contact period is her main focus."

"Yxta?" Derek echoed, carefully pronouncing it correctly, "Eek-saw."  "Peruvian?"

"Yeah, her linguistic area is the native languages and symbols used by the Indian cultures in the Chopec area of Peru."

Derek nodded, opening the foam-lined case.  Nick cautiously removed the fragment, the carved obsidian shining in the overhead light, flashes lancing across the room.  He settled the artifact next to the one Sandburg had been examining earlier.

"Oh, wow," Blair softly.  "There's a lot more carving on this piece than I expected."

"Should keep your linguist busy," Derek said.

"We're going to get a 3-D computer image of the reconstructed artifact, so she can work on it after the conference," Blair said.  "If that's okay."

Derek nodded.  "Provided you download that information to me; I have an associate who is something of a language expert as well."

"Sure, no problem," Blair assured, carefully maneuvering the artifacts until he found how they fit together.  "I've read some of the papers you and your father wrote on Peru," he said as he checked the fit.  "It's been a great help in my work."

"Thank you.  I appreciate that," Derek said, ignoring the slight grin Nick leveled on him – adoring graduate students were common around Derek Rayne.  "And I've read your published papers on the sentinel phenomenon as well."

"You have?" Blair asked, his expression brightening.  "Wow, I never–"

"It's an interesting concept," Derek interrupted, his slightly accented voice full of academic curiosity.

"Yeah, and one that spans a lot of different ancient cultures from the British isles to South America, to the Russian steppes and ancient China," Blair added.  "I've been taking some folklore and literature classes this semester, trying to get a handle on the whole phenomena from another angle."

"Ah, yes, a good idea, I'm sure.  Remind me before the conference is over; my associate found a reference to a 'protector' figure in some 8th century church records.  They might be of some use to you."

"Wow, that would be great!  Finding something, anything, in a language I don't need at least three experts to help me translate would be a real find."

"Uh, excuse me?"

Sandburg turned to find Ellison standing in the doorway.  "Jim, hey, I'm glad you're here."  He turned so he could make the introductions.  "Dr. Derek Rayne, Nick Boyle, this is–"

"Jim Ellison.  Cascade P.D."

"There's no trouble, I hope," Derek said, accepting Ellison's hand.  A brief flash of jungle and a black panther with glowing amber eyes filled Derek's mind, but evaporated as quickly as it came.

"No.  No trouble," Jim assured the men.  He turned to Sandburg.  "I just wanted to let you know that Simon and I are meeting on the Stratford case; should be done around eight or so."

Blair checked his watch.  "Dr. Beaumont's due anytime, then we're going to reassemble the artifact and get some pictures for a computer model.  I probably won't get back to the loft before eight either."

Jim nodded.  "You gonna get a chance to eat?"

"Probably not."

"I'll call for Chinese before I leave, you pick it up on the way home?"

"Sure," Blair said.  "Good luck with the Stratford case."

"Yeah, thanks," Ellison said.  He nodded to Derek and Nick.  "Nice to meet you, gentlemen."

Rayne watched the detective leave, his gaze appraising.  He didn't think they were lovers, but obviously more than just friends.  They shared a living space…  He glanced back at Sandburg.

Blair grinned and dipped his head self-consciously.  "I, uh, do some consulting work for the Cascade Police Department.  Jim's my, uh, roommate."

 _Or perhaps you've found a living sentinel?_ Derek wondered silently.  Then he asked, "You said Beaumont, that wouldn't be Dr. Henri Beaumont, from Paris, would it?"

"Yeah," Blair said with a nod.  "His work on native cultures in Peru is amazing."

"Yes, it is," Rayne agreed, looking to Nick, who shrugged, not understanding the significance of the man's name.  "Legacy," Derek mouthed silently.

Nick's eyes widened slightly.  Maybe the weekend wouldn't be as dull as he'd expected after all.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Less than an hour later, Dr. Henri Beaumont joined the threesome.  In his early sixties, Beaumont was a short, slightly built man, who looked almost frail.  However, that first impression was quickly dispelled by the man's natural enthusiasm and his deeply tanned and weathered hands and face, which strongly hinted at the long hours spent on various archeological digs around the world.

Spotting Rayne, he walked directly to the much taller man and gave him a warm hug before kissing both of the man's cheeks.  "It is good to see you again, my friend."

"And you," Derek replied, returning the gesture.

After a round of introductions, Beaumont set the traveling case he carried down on the table and removed the third, and as it turned out, final section of the obsidian artifact.

"Wow," Blair muttered softly, taking the fragment from Beaumont.  "I think it's going to be pentahedral."

"I agree," Derek said, watching as Sandburg carefully maneuvered the third piece into place with the other two, bringing the five-planed object together for the first time in at least four hundred years.

The reassembled five-sided container sat gleaming under the lights.  Beaumont reached back into the travel case and removed a small, half-circular object, handing it to Blair, who carefully set the object over the semi-circular hole at the top of the container.  "A lid," he said with a grin.  "This is so cool."

"So, what is it?" Nick asked.

Derek shrugged.  "I don't know.  It doesn't resemble any traditional cultural objects I'm familiar with."

"Nor I," Beaumont added, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.

Sandburg glanced up and smiled when a light knock sounded on the door.  "Yxta, come take a look, you're not gonna believe it," he said, waving the young woman over to join him.

She walked over to join the men, nodding a greeting to the three strangers.  In her late twenties, Yxta was slender and graceful with long black hair pulled back into a single thick braid.  Her red-brown skin glowed under the overhead lights and her eyes were as black as the artifact.  High cheekbones, strong chin, and a slight Roman nose made her the living echo of the South American native as carved into ancient ruins from Mexico to Peru.  The thick Peruvian wool sweater and jeans she wore did little to hide her comely figure.

She bent over the table, studying the artifact for a few moments, then shook her head in confusion.  "I've never seen anything like this," she said, her voice softly accented.  Walking over to one of the many cabinets, she took down a digital camera and returned to the table.

Holding the camera up to her eye, the anthropologist took several pictures of the artifact, making sure to capture each side, as well as the top and bottom – which Blair carefully made available by holding up the object while the others held their collective breath.

That done, she set the camera aside and bent closer to study the carvings under the light again.  "These inscriptions are much older than I expected," she said.  "Older than the object, I would guess, but that seems impossible.  It might take me longer than I thought to interpret them."

"Perhaps one of my associates can help," Derek said.

Yxta looked up at Derek and nodded.  "I would be happy to work with your associate, Dr. Rayne."  She fished into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a business card, handing it to the man.  "Have him email me, and we will start in the morning."

"I will," Derek said with a slightly self-conscious smile.  She was a striking woman, her exotic beauty compelling.

"Well, I guess we can call it a night, then," Blair said.  "We'll be able to run tests and examine the artifact in-depth tomorrow.  All the equipment's been set up for us right here.  I just need to move a few things around and get it ready."

"Yes, good, good," Beaumont sighed, rubbing his eyes.  "The flight was long, and I am looking forward to a good night's rest."

"Do you need a ride to a hotel?" Blair asked.

"No, the dean is waiting for me.  We are old friends, but thank you," Beaumont assured.  "Now, if you will excuse me?"

"Good night, Henri," Derek said, shaking the man's hand.  "A pleasure to see you again."

"The same, Derek.  It has been far too long.  And your father, ah, so sad.  I knew him well, you know."

"No, I didn't," Derek said, honestly surprised.

"Perhaps I will have an opportunity to tell you a few… tall tales?"

Derek grinned.  "I'd like that.  Good night, Henri."

"Good night."  Beaumont turned and left the hall.

Yxta followed, saying, "I want to download this into the computer, make sure we have a working model.  I will see you all tomorrow?"

"Yeah, about nine?" Blair asked.

"Sounds good to me," she replied, leaving.

Blair turned to Derek and Nick, asking if they needed a ride.

"No, thank you," Derek assured.

"We rented a car," Nick added.

Derek stepped closer to the reassembled object, reaching out to touch the carved surface.  At the first whisper of contact images leaped into his mind.  A man, lying immobile.  The glint of sunlight off the sharp edge of an obsidian blade.  A second man, his eyes spilling over with sadness.  A still beating heart held in bloody hands.  The flashing shadows of jungle animals.

Derek took a step back, Nick's hand on his shoulder steadying him.  "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Derek said softly, then turned to Blair.  "What kind of security–"

Blair's hands came up to reassure as he interrupted.  "I'm going to lock the artifact under bullet-proof glass, and this room has a secure electronic lock.  And in order to get into this wing you have to pass a security guard."

"Yeah, we saw the guy on the way in," Nick acknowledged.

Derek nodded, then smiled faintly at Sandburg.  "Good, it sounds like everything should be fine.  Good evening, Mr. Sandburg–"

"Please, call me Blair."

"Very well, Blair.  We will see you in the morning, to review the computer model?"

"That sounds good.  How about nine-thirty?  That'll give Yxta and I an opportunity to get everything set up in here and look it over first."

"Nine-thirty it is," Derek said with a warm smile.

"Here?" Nick asked.

Blair nodded.  "Yep, this room is ours for the duration."

"Until tomorrow, then," Derek said and the two men left.

Blair stared down at the object, the skin at the base of skull growing tight and prickling.  He reached up and massaged his neck, then maneuvered the heavy glass case over the artifact and locked it in place, using the security screws and locks installed in the heavy wooden table top just for that purpose.  That done, he checked his watch; he had just enough time to pick up the Chinese food and get back to the loft by eight.

He left, re-setting the code on the electronic door lock and making sure it clicked securely into place.  Just to be sure, he tried to push the door open – it refused to budge.  Satisfied with the security, Blair turned and headed for his car.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In their hotel suite Derek Rayne paced the thick carpet, his brows knotted over the bridge of his nose.

"Room service is on the way," Nick said, hanging up the phone.  "I don't know about you, but I'm starved–  Derek, what's wrong?"

The pacing came to a halt.  "I'm not sure," he admitted, "but when I touched the reassembled artifact I saw a series of disturbing images."  He paused, paced off several more steps, then turned.  "Call Alex; have her comb the Legacy database for any additional information we might have on that object.  And have her contact the museum for all of the records there.  I think I have them all with me, but there might be more that was overlooked.  Have Teresa fax me anything else she finds."

"Okay," Nick said, "but if you think there might be something up with this, I think we better have Alex look into the other people who had pieces."

"Good idea," Derek said, walking over to the comfortable couch and sitting down.  Leaning forward, he opened his briefcase, setting it on the coffee table, and pulled out the files he'd brought from the museum.  "There's more to this object than meets the eye," he said softly.  "Much more."

Nick nodded, then reached for the phone.  He punched out the number to their San Francisco headquarters.  "Alex?  Yeah, you up for a little database surfing?...  Great.  Here's what we need…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In the still darkness of the Anthropology workroom, a soft glow began to build under the protective glass case.  Shards of amber light, escaping through the cracks in the reassembled artifact, shattered the thick glass before swirling into the shadows, where it hung, pulsing.  Then the light dropped to the floor, shining out under the locked door and fading into the murky hallway.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sandburg and Yxta found the smashed case the following morning.  "What in the world?" the young woman asked, walking gingerly through the pebble-like chunks of glass to examine the apparently untouched artifact.

Blair hurriedly examined the artifact as well, making sure it was undamaged.  He sighed heavily.  "It looks untouched.  What do you think could do that?"

"Maybe the glass cracked when you locked it down, or it was already cracked and the pressure caused it to shatter later?" Yxta offered.

"Makes as much sense as anything," Blair agreed, checking the security screws.  Had he turned them too tight?  He glanced up at the clock on the well.  "Help me get this cleaned up before Rayne and Beaumont get here."

"Sure," Yxta said, heading out for a broom and dustpan.

The area was pristine, all evidence of the broken case gone by the time Derek and Nick arrived, Beaumont entering the lab a few minutes later.  The rest of the day was spend comparing notes, examining the artifact and running tests on it while Yxta perfected the computer model and began work on the inscriptions.  The participants took occasional breaks to attend relevant panels, but then returned to the lab to continue with their own research.  A catered lunch, compliments of the Student Union, was delivered to the lab at Sandburg's request.

While the others busied themselves with the artifact, Nick camped in front of a second computer, searching academic databases and museum collections for references to anything similar to their find and coming up empty at the end of the day.

Yxta moved between the actual artifact and the computer model, checking and double-checking until she was satisfied that they had the best model possible.  Once that was done she generated a grid with all of the carvings displayed left to right as if they were letters or words from an idiographic alphabet.  Those she downloaded to Rayne's associate in San Francisco, Philip Callahan.  Unfortunately, the young Irish priest was as confused by the inscriptions as she was.

At six o'clock, they called it a day, no closer to understanding what they had than when they'd started that morning.

"I say we begin at seven in the morning," Derek suggested.  "With just two days left, we need all the time we can manage."

"Yes, yes," Beaumont agreed.  "A shame that we must attend the Dean's dinner party this evening."

Derek nodded his agreement, but it would be too rude to stand up their host.

"Fine by me," Blair said.  "Yxta?"

She nodded.  "Seven it is."

Blair settled a second security box over the artifact and set the screws, not screwing them down as tight before he inserted the locks and clicked them into place.  Closing the door and setting the electronic code, he headed home to review the paper he'd be delivering the next day.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The Dean's dinner party broke up promptly at ten.  The historic Rainier building, now home to the university's Alumni Association and frequently used for just this kind of function, sat at the edge of the campus, and within walking distance of the well known Cascade hotel the conference attendees were using.  Henri Beaumont paused just outside the old Victorian-styled building, leaning back and rubbing his hands over his pleasantly-full belly.

He checked the night sky, finding stars.  No chance of rain.  He nodded to himself.  The walk back to the hotel would do him good, aiding his digestion and allowing him to clear his mind before going to bed.

"Going back to the hotel?" Derek asked, walking up behind the man.

"Yes, I'm afraid I'm not as young as I once was.  All this traveling, it takes its toll."

Derek grinned.

"And you?" he asked Derek and Nick.

"The library," Nick sighed.

"The dean was kind enough to open the anthropology library to us.  I thought we'd see if can find anything more on our mystery object."

Henri nodded.  "A very good idea."

"Henri," Derek said, his voice dropping.  "Was the artifact part of the Paris House collection?"

The older man shook his head.  "No, no, I do not think so.  Emmanuel Bacon gave me the fragment many years ago.  He thought I might be able to identify it, but I could not.  When he died, I inherited it.  And yours?"

"Something my father brought back from Peru.  It has always been in his private collection."

"Well, I am off to my bed.  Good luck."

Derek nodded.  "And we had better get to the library."

"Good night," Henri said, and with a deep breath of the cool night air he started off.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Jim Ellison squatted down next to the assistant coroner and studied the corpse.  Lying in an open grassy area at the edge of the university campus, the man's body was twisted and contorted in ways wholly unnatural to human anatomy, but it was the man's face that made Ellison wish he had skipped that second donut, wolfed down for breakfast.  It wasn't the lips, pulled back in a horrified grimace, or the wide-open empty eye sockets that bothered him, rather, it was the broken jaw hinges that protruded through torn flesh at the man's temples.

The detective swallowed hard.  "What could do that?" he asked.

The assistant coroner, an unflappable young woman in her mid-thirties, shook her head and shrugged.  "No idea, but I'll let you know when we come up with any theories.  It looks like his liver and heart are missing, too."

"Missing?"

"Removed," she corrected.  "Whoever did this has a twisted sense of humor."

Ellison nodded as he stood.  He had already walked through the crime scene, jotting down notes and using his heightened senses to search for any clues the other officers and lab technicians might have missed, but he'd found nothing.  Glancing around, he spotted the shift sergeant and walked over to join him.  "Hank, any idea who the victim was?"

Sergeant Hank Viagetti was a medium built man in his mid-forties, robust and effusive.  "Visiting scholar.  Henri Beaumont.  He was here for some kind of egg-head get-together."

"The conference?" Ellison muttered under his breath.  He pointed at the corpse.  "Yeah, yeah, Sandburg mentioned a Beaumont this morning.  From France, right?"

The older officer nodded.

"He was here for the anthropology conference they've got going on."  His eyes widened slightly.  "Has anyone notified the conference organizers?"

"Not that I know of," the sergeant said.  "Jim, we've got two other bodies on campus.  One's a janitor, the other a student who was coming back to campus late."

"Great," Jim sighed.  All they needed was a serial killer loose on the campus while the conference was going on.  "Okay, look, I'm going to go talk to the conference people.  Leave a copy of your report on my desk, okay?"

"Sure thing, Jim," Viagetti said.

Without a backward glance Ellison strode from the crime scene, heading for the Anthropology building and his partner.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ellison found Blair in the same workroom he'd been directed to the day before.  Rayne and his associate were also there, along with a young woman.  _Yxta_ , he remembered.  He nodded at the scholars, his gaze immediately seeking out Sandburg's.  "Can you step out here a minute?"

Blair glanced at the others and straightened.  "Uh, yeah, sure," he said, looking to Rayne.  "I'll, uh, be right back."

Derek nodded, his curiosity immediately piqued, but he didn't follow the graduate student to the door, opting to continue his examination of the obsidian object.  Reaching out, he cupped his hands on either side of the cold stone, intending to pick it up, but images immediately filled his mind: an indigenous native ran through the jungle, his lithe body at one with his surroundings.  He was hunting, his face painted black and red, the black pelt of a panther was draped over his shoulders and tied down at the back of his thighs.  The big cat's claws, attached to a leather thong, decorated the man's upper arms, and its teeth, strung on another leather thong, bounced against his chest with each step.

 _He's hunting_.

Derek looked more closely.

The man's black eyes glowed with an unnatural gold and his lips were pulled back off his teeth in a feral snarl.  Blood dripped from his chin and his fingers.

 _Not hunting_ , Derek realized.  _The hunt is finished_.  And in the same instant he saw the man's victim.

Derek sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back.  "Henri," he hissed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Jim, what's up, man?" Blair asked when the pair stepped into the hallway.

Ellison hesitated, taking a step back, then forward again.  He drew a deep breath and sighed.

"Jim?"

"Beaumont–"

"What?" Sandburg interrupted.

"He's part of this conference thing, isn't he?"

Blair nodded, his expression immediately turning serious and concerned.  "Come on, Jim, what's going on?"

Ellison glanced down the hallway in both directions, then lowered his voice and said, "Beaumont's dead."

"What?"  Ellison took a step closer to Sandburg, his hard gaze forcing the grad student's voice down.  "He's dead?"

Jim nodded.  "About a half a block from the Alumni building."

"The dinner party," Blair said, then looked up to meet the detective's troubled gaze.  "How?  How did he die?"

"We don't know yet," he said.  "But I'll tell you, whatever it was, it was pretty bad.  He was terrified.  And there are two other victims – a janitor and a student."

Blair let Ellison's words sink in, then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.  "Oh, man, I need to go tell the others.  I'm not sure what this is going to mean about the conference, or the artifact."  He took a step away, but was stopped by Ellison's hand on his shoulder.

"Be careful, Chief."

Blair's eyes rounded.  "You don't think the rest of us are in danger, do you?  I mean, were the janitor and the student connected to the conference?"

"I don't know; that's why I want you to be careful."

Sandburg nodded, walking back into the workroom as Derek's strained voice whispered, "Henri."

Blair's eyes widened and his face paled.  "How did you know?" he asked, watching as Nick helped the anthropologist into a chair.

"What is it?" Nick asked.

Derek looked up, meeting Blair's worried and confused gaze.  "Henri Beaumont is dead, isn't he."

Sandburg shivered.  It wasn't a question.  It was a statement of fact.  He nodded.

Derek's gaze shifted from the graduate student to the gleaming artifact.  "He's loose."

"Who?" Ellison demanded from the doorway.

Meeting the man's almost angry glare, Derek shook his head.

"How did you know Beaumont was dead?" Ellison demanded.

"It's a… gift," Nick said, his posture bristling.

"Listen–" Jim growled, taking a step into the room.

"Jim," Blair interrupted, one hand coming up to rest on Ellison's shoulder.  "Dr. Rayne has an… unusual gift.  He's helped a lot of police departments solve crimes."

Ellison turned an incredulous gaze on his partner.  "Are you telling me he's some kind of psychic?"

"Something like that, yes," Derek said, standing.  "I saw an image of Dr. Beaumont…  He was dead."

"I hope you won't take offense, Dr. Rayne, but just where, exactly, were you last night?"

"We were at the Dean's dinner party," Nick said, his tone of voice making it clear he did take offense at the question.  "We left around ten, the same as everyone else, and we went to the anthropology library."

"Can anyone verify that?" the detective asked.

Derek nodded.  "There was a guard who let us into the stacks.  He waited there until we left a little after one in the morning."

"And where did you go?" Ellison asked.

"Back to the hotel," Derek explained.

"Did anyone see you there?" the detective continued.

"Yes," Derek said, "the woman at the front desk.  There was an express mail package waiting for me.  She hailed us when we entered the lobby."

Ellison nodded.  He believed the man, about his alibi as least.  "I guess I don't have to tell you, but please, don't leave town."

Derek nodded.  Nick sighed heavily and shook his head.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"I don't want to hear it, Chief!" Ellison snapped as they walked into the Major Crimes office later that afternoon.

"But he's–"

"He's a suspect, Sandburg.  Nothing more, nothing less."

"He's _not_ a suspect.  Derek Rayne is–"

Ellison stopped when he reached his desk, turning, hand on his hips.  "Look, I understand that you respect this man, all right?  But I don't have an option here.  He and his associate are suspects until their alibis are checked out and a background check comes back.  Hell, Chief, _you're_ a suspect."

"Me?"

Jim shrugged.

Sandburg shook his head and sighed his tolerance for the working conditions Jim had to operate under.  "Whatever.  I need to get back to the university.  We're working on the translation after lunch and I have to present my paper this evening."

"Okay," Jim said, moving around his desk to sit down.  Glancing at his desk, he found the files on Stewart, Rayne and Beaumont waiting for him.  "Hey, Chief, just a minute."

"What?" Blair asked, rounding the desk to peer over Ellison's shoulder.

"Let's take a look at these," Jim said, opting for Stewart's first.  "This is the old man who donated the piece to Rainier?"

"Yeah," Blair said, glancing at the file on William Henry Stewart, professor emeritus Rainier University.  He flipped through the pages.  "There," he said, pointing to a paragraph half way down the third page.  "It says that he found the artifact on a dig in Peru in the late 1950s…"

"You could read all that?  That fast?" Ellison asked.

Sandburg glanced down at his partner and grinned.  "Lots of practice skimming journal articles, man – gotta learn to take it in quick."

"Yeah, right."

"Wow, I wonder why Stewart didn't tell the university about the fragment before now?  I mean, why wait?" Sandburg said.

"Maybe he thought it was valuable and didn't want to share."

Blair flashed Ellison a frown as he snatched the file from his hands.  "You know, sometimes you're a real cynic."

"It says here the university had to arrange for the artifact to be reassembled in order to take final possession of it…"  He glanced up at Sandburg.  "Does that strike you as a little strange?"

Blair shrugged.  "Yeah, I guess.  I mean, he could've done the same thing at any time.  Why wait until he was dead?  I mean, no disrespect to the dead or anything, but what's the point?"

Ellison set the file aside and picked up Beaumont's.  "Here, take a look," he said, scooting his chair over so Sandburg could pull up one and sit beside him.

Sandburg scanned the file.  "Nothing unusual…" he said, skimming the first few pages.  "Professor for a while, then an archeologist working for the Museum of Human Antiquity…  He's one of the curators.  There's nothing unusual here, Jim."

"Yeah?  Well, I can't say the same for Dr. Rayne and his sidekick."

Blair shot the detective a withering glance.  "Oh?"

"Nick Boyle's an ex-Navy SEAL, now employed by the Luna Foundation–"

"Derek's organization," Blair acknowledged.

"Well, it seems that this Foundation's been associated with some pretty strange happenings in San Francisco."

"I'm not really surprised," Blair explained, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest.  "Derek Rayne investigates claims of paranormal activity."

"You mean he's a– a ghostbuster?"

Blair chuckled.  "No, he's a scientist, more like Houdini.  He debunks supposed paranormal occurrences, and he studies the real ones."

Jim's eyebrows arched.  "Real ones?"

Blair sighed, knowing his partner's linear-analytical inclinations.  "Whatever.  He also does some guest lectures at universities and museums, and scholarly associations.  And he's the head of the Winston Rayne Hall of Antiquities."

"Winston Rayne?"

"His father.  They're both well-known anthropologists.  Derek's area is forensic anthropology.  That's probably why the police have called him in on some cases."

"And the fact he's supposed to be a psychic?"

"So I've heard," Blair said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sitting in his hotel room, Derek eat sparingly from a meal delivered by room service while he read over the faxed information Alex had sent.  There was nothing in Henri Beaumont's file to suggest that he would be the target of murder – from "natural" sources.  But every Legacy member knew that there were forces of evil and darkness who wouldn't hesitate to attack and kill, if given an opportunity.  But that didn't explain the dead janitor and student.

He set the file aside and opened William Henry Stewart's file, reading it from cover to cover.  He closed the file as the door opened and Nick stepped inside.  "I got the files you wanted from Rainier, but it means I've got a dinner date," he said with a grin.

"Good.  Is she pretty?" Derek asked, taking the photocopied pages.

"Very… for a woman in her sixties."

The older man chuckled before turning his attention to the pages.  Reading, Derek's head cocked slightly to one side and he frowned.

"Something?"

"I think so," Derek said, looking up at the younger man.  "It seems that Dr. Stewart found his fragment of the artifact in 1957, but he kept the artifact's existence a secret."

"That does seems a little odd, for an academic," Nick said.

"Yes.  Yes, it does."

"And according to what I was able to find out from the very helpful Mrs. Besmith, Stewart left his position under some kind of cloud.  I guess he was supposed to be appointed head of the anthropology department when the man in the position retired, but the dean decided to go outside for the hire.  Stewart was pretty pissed off about it and tried to get the Board of Regents to back his candidacy, but Mrs. Besmith thought the dean had more friends on the Board and Stewart was told no."

"Did he bequeath anything else to Rainier University when he died?"

Nick shook his head.  "Just that fragment, and that only with the stipulation that the missing pieces be located and the artifact reassembled for study."

"Curious, don't you think, to leave an artifact of such potential value to the same university that forced you out?"

"Yeah, doesn't seem like the kind of thing you'd do if you were pissed off."

"Unless you wanted revenge," Derek said, meeting Nick's gaze.  "Is there a Mrs. Stewart?"

Nick nodded again.  "Yeah, Mrs. Besmith said she's still living here in Cascade."

"I think you should speak to her."

Nick nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Back at the university, Derek, Blair, and Yxta continued to work on the artifact.

"Where's Nick?" Blair asked.

"Out running an errand," Derek hedged.

"I've got something," Yxta called excitedly, interrupting Blair's next question.

"What is it?" Derek asked, stooping down to peer over her shoulder at the computer screen.

"I've managed to translate a portion of the inscriptions.  You were right, Blair, it mentions a warrior who was, and I quote, 'the eyes, the ears, the strength of the people.'  Sounds like a sentinel to me."    

"Me, too," Sandburg grinned.

"What about this warrior?" Derek asked.

"Well, there's something about a terrible danger, a battle, and the death of a hero, or perhaps a god," she said, brushing back a stray strand of black hair.  "But that's all we've got so far.  Philip's trying to cross-reference this symbol," she said, clicking and highlighting one of the many phonograms.  "It seems to be critical to the overall story, but I'm afraid it might be idiolectic."

"Idio-what?" Blair asked.

"Specific to whoever carved this artifact – part of the dialect of an individual."

"Perhaps," Derek agreed, "but it's similar to several of the other phonograms."  He pointed to several on the screen.

She nodded.  "That's why we're cross-referencing it."  She glanced over her shoulder at Derek.  "You must have one amazing library, given what Philip's been able to come up with."

The older man smiled proudly.  "We do have an extensive collection of… older texts."

"Father Callahan said that he's using some diaries kept by the priests who followed on the heels of Cortez's conquest?"

Derek nodded.  "Yes, we have several."

"Amazing," Yxta breathed.  "I've been working on a database for the translation of indigenous symbology since I was an undergraduate.  The contributions Philip's added in this research will provide us a giant step forward in the examination of ruins and artifacts."

"I'm sure Philip would be happy to help expand your database," Derek assured her.  "In exchange for a copy."

"Are you doing work in South American?"

"No," Derek said.  "But we're often asked to examine artifacts of unknown origin, and appreciate any tools that can aid us."

Yxta nodded.  "Well, I'll keep working on this end and maybe we'll be able to get more of the story translated by lunch."

Derek and Blair went back to work.

After an early dinner, which they ate in the workroom, the three scholars secured the artifact and headed off to various panels.  They agreed that they would meet again after the presentations, when Yxta would share what else she and Philip had been able to translate.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Listening to a discussion of the relationship between ancient Celtic ritual and patterns of settlement and warfare, Derek missed the door creaking open, but heard his softly called name.  Looking, he found Nick gesturing to him.

He stood and quietly left the seminar room, meeting his companion in the hallway.  "Did you see Mrs. Stewart?"

"Yeah, she was… chatty."

Derek placed a hand on Nick's shoulder and directed him down the hall.  "Then why don't we go find someplace comfortable."

Several minutes later the two men sat in a small booth in one of the many coffeehouses near the university.  "So, what did she tell you?" Derek asked.

"Okay, Dr. Stewart found the fragment on a dig in 1957, just like the file said.  His wife said that he didn't know what to make of it, so he put it in a crate and left it there until 1978."

"What happened then?"

"They were on vacation in France.  He saw the piece on display at the Museum of Human Antiquity in Paris.  When they got home Dr. Stewart pulled his piece out of storage and confirmed that it was part of the same artifact."

"But he never contacted the museum?"

"No, she said that he put it back in the box.  Then, in the late 80s they were at a conference at the University of San Francisco.  She said that from the time her husband found the fragment in Paris he'd hit all the local museums wherever they traveled, looking for other pieces.  It was kind of an obsession – at least that's the word she used."

"So he found the piece we have on display at the Hall of Antiquities," Derek stated.

Nick nodded.  "Okay, now it gets interesting.  Mrs. Stewart says that her husband hired a private detective to go take pictures of the artifacts in Paris and San Francisco."

"Pictures?  Why?"

"She wasn't sure.  But once he had them, he took them and the fragment he had back to Peru."

"To find a translation," Derek guessed.

"He didn't tell her why, but after he got back she said he was beside himself.  He was already having problems with the dean and the department head position.  She said he started talking about the artifact being his 'gift' to the department."

"'Gift'?" Derek echoed, then shook his head.  "It was his revenge."

Nick nodded.  "Would be my guess, but what is it?"

"I don't know," Derek admitted.  "But whatever evil force was trapped in those pieces has been set free."

"Maybe we should talk to Ellison."

"I doubt he would believe us," Derek said, standing.  "But I'll see if Blair can make the arrangements.  Now, I have to get back.  Yxta and Philip have translated more of the inscription.  Maybe that will tell us what we're facing."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Come look," Blair called as Derek and Nick stepped into the work room.  "This is just incredible!"

The two Legacy members walked over to stand behind the young woman's chair. 

She took a deep breath before she explained, "Okay, it seems that there was a village, who had a sentinel – if we accept a warrior who is the eyes, ears and strength of the people is a sentinel."

"He is," Blair stated with conviction.

"Anyway, a terrible danger threatened the village.  People were dying, or were being killed, I can't tell yet.  The people made sacrifices to try and appease the monster who was threatening them – or they made sacrifices to the gods so they would intervene on their behalf and stop the monster.  We haven't been able to tell which, given the context we have translated."

"Tell them what happens," Blair said, wanting to rush the story along.

Yxta grinned.  "It seems that the warrior faced the monster and defeated it, but he was killed."

"The warrior?" Derek questioned, a flash of another indigenous face filling his mind.

"I think so," Yxta said.  "But I'm not sure.  Look," she said, highlighting a symbol.  "The symbols in this cluster–"  She pointed to several on the screen.  "These describe the warrior."

"The sentinel," Blair corrected.

"But in each case, there's are also additional phonograms.  This one… and this one – the one we're cross-referencing.  And they are still a mystery.  Until we can understand what they mean, we are not going to understand what really happened."

"So what's the artifact for?" Nick asked.

"It's like a storybook," Yxta said.  "But I think it might also be a funeral urn for the warrior."

"That's strange," Derek said.  "Most of the indigenous tribes in that area didn't cremate their dead and keep the ashes."

"I know," Yxta said.  "I'm thinking that the village shaman might have had a vision and called for the ritual.  The ashes of so great a warrior would have been seen as very powerful.  They could be saved and used in all manner of rituals for added potency."

"Did any of the analyses of the fragments turn up residue?" Derek asked.

"No," Blair supplied.  "In fact, there was nothing at all on the surface of the pieces except modern dust and pollutants."

"The ashes could have been used, or lost when the container was broken," Nick suggested.

"Perhaps," Yxta said.

"Or perhaps the container was never meant to hold the ashes of the dead warrior," Derek said.  "Perhaps it was intended to hold something else."

"Such as?" Blair asked Rayne.

"The man's spirit," Derek stated.  He turned to meet Sandburg's curious gaze. "I think it would be a good idea if we spoke to Detective Ellison."

"Okay," Blair said, not liking the serious expression on the man's face.  "I'll give him a call and set something up."

"Is this about the killings?" Yxta asked.  "It is so sad, such a tragic waste."

Derek nodded, but refused to explain further.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

While Derek Rayne sat, trying to convince Ellison that the spirit of an evil warrior was loose on the Rainier campus, that same spirit was hunting again, looking for the one man he knew must be there. 

"Look, I just can't believe that some… _ghost_ is running around killing people on campus," Jim said, shaking his head.

The phone interrupted Derek's reply and Jim picked it up, saying, "Yeah, Ellison."

"Jim, it's Simon.  Look, get out to the University."

"What's up?"

"There's been another killing."

"Great," Jim sighed, rubbing the back of his neck to try and stop the headache that was beginning to pound at the base of his skull.  "I'm on my way."

"What is it?" Blair asked when Jim hung up.

"There's been another killing on campus."

Derek stood.  "We'd like to come with you."

Jim shook his head.  "I don't think–"

Blair reached out, resting a hand on Ellison's shoulder.  "Jim, please.  I know it sounds weird, but we've run into weird a few times, remember?  Please."

Ellison stared into his guide's eyes, debating with himself.  He trusted Blair, and Blair trusted Rayne.  And when he'd spoken to Simon's friend at the SFPD the man had given Rayne a sterling recommendation.  He looked from Blair to Rayne and nodded.  "All right, but this is a crime scene.  Don't touch anything, and don't get in the way."

Derek nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The victim was the associate dean of the College of Education.  Her empty eye sockets started up at the starry sky, the only peaceful aspect of her otherwise grisly countenance.  Jim looked away, the short hairs along the back of his neck bristling.  The headache pounded harder, beating through his skull like drums and he took a deep breath, trying to force it away.

Blair stood not far away, steadfastly trying not to look at the body.  Nick Boyle stood with him.  Rayne, on the other hand, moved carefully through the crime scene, his gaze fixed on images Jim couldn't see.

The detective shook his head, the flash from something in the shadows seizing his attention.  He turned his head, and using his sentinel-enhanced sight, scanned the deep shadows cast by tall trees near the Education building.  His breath caught when he locked gazes with an Indian man with burning amber eyes.  Instantly he knew he was looking at another sentinel.

Jim took in the man's painted face, the jaguar pelt he wore and the fact that even as he looked at the man he could see the texture of the bricks making up the wall behind him.  "That's impossible," he whispered to himself, the headache pounding so painfully he jerked slightly.

Before he could move, the Indian man grinned and Jim noted the blood on the man's lips and chin.  He swallowed hard.  This was the killer.  Rayne was right: they had a ghost killing people on campus.  It was too incredible, and the pain in his head was too strong for Ellison to really consider the possibility.

The warrior's eyes began to glow unnaturally bright, and in a streak of blinding amber light, the spirit flashed from his position in the shadows into Jim's eyes.  The detective cried out, dropping to his knees in the dew-damp grass, his hands pressed tightly over his eyes.

"Jim?" Blair called, bolting to his friend's side.  "Jim, are you all right, man?"

Ellison rocked slightly from side to side, his senses whirling out of control.  He could hear Boyle and Rayne approaching, their footsteps echoing like elephants stampeding through the jungle.  Voices, the breeze, earthworms moving under the grass, all assaulted his ears.  Blair's light touch on his shoulder landed like a blow from a baseball bat and he twisted away, scrambling to his feet.  "Get… back," he choked out.

Forcing his hands away from his eyes, Jim squinted against the too-intense flashing lights on the patrol cars.  A feral snarl ripped though his throat when Blair reached out and grabbed his arm, the grip squeezing as tight as a vice.  Jerking free, Jim bolted into the darkness.

"Jim!" Blair called as he took a step to follow.

Derek grabbed his arm, halting him.  "Ellison is a sentinel, isn't he?"

Blair met the man's eyes, but the words refused to come.  He's promised Jim he'd never reveal the truth.

"You must tell me," Derek said, his intense gaze boring into Sandburg's.

Blair nodded.  "I have to find him."

"No," Derek said as another officer stepped up to join them.

"Hey, what's wrong with Ellison?"

Blair shrugged and chuckled nervously.  "I don't know, man.  Maybe he saw something."

The officer stepped away, raising his radio to his cheek and saying, "Ellison might be in pursuit of a suspect.  I need backup on the east side of the campus."

"Come on," Derek said, resting a hand on Blair's shoulder and directing him away from the crime scene.

"Where are we going?"

"The same place he is," Derek explained.  "Back to the artifact."

"Why?" Nick asked.

"I'm not sure," Derek admitted, "but Dr. Ayala is still there, working on the translation."

"Yxta?" Blair echoed.  "Come on!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Yxta yelped when the three men burst into the work room.  "Blair," she scolded, "you scared me half to death!"

"Have you seen Jim?"

"No," she said, noting the concern in his voice, "but I do have more of the translation."

"Tell me," Derek directed, moving quickly to join her.

"The warrior wasn't fighting a danger to the village," she started.

"He was the danger," Nick finished for her.

"Yes," she admitted, "but how did you know?"

"How was he defeated?" Derek asked, ignoring her question.

"He was overcome by terrible sounds and lights and what I think might be the scent of flowers.  Maybe a terrible storm that destroyed the vegetation?  But it was an amulet that captured his soul and sent it to the world between worlds."

"Where neither the truly dead or the truly living exist,' Blair said softly.  "No wonder he's pissed off."

"But how did you know what the translation said?" she asked again.  "Philip and I just finished a few minutes ago."

"Because he's here," Derek answered.

"Who?" she asked, confused.  "Philip?  But–"

"No, he means the spirit of the sentinel in the story was in the artifact…" Blair said, not sure he believed it, but knowing it was the truth.  "And now he's here, on campus… killing people."

"What?  That's impossible," Yxta argued.

"It's also true," Derek said.  "The sentinel's spirit was ritually trapped in the artifact, then it was broken and carried to different villages so the spirit could never again become whole and–"

"Release danger upon the people," Yxta finished.  "That's what the translation says, but–"

"So what do we do?" Blair interrupted.

"We have to get the spirit to return to this artifact, then separate the pieces," Derek said.

"And how do we do that?" Nick asked.  "He's gotta know that's what we'll do."

"Not to mention the fact he's hiding in the body of my best friend," Blair added tartly.

Yxta looked up at Blair.  "You mean Jim's been possessed?  By this crazy sentinel?"

Blair nodded.

"Guys, this is starting to sound like a bad episode of _The Twilight Zone_."

"Tell me about it," Blair sighed.

Derek turned to Yxta.  "What about the mystery symbols, did you managed to translate them?"

She shook her head.  "We're still not sure.  They seem to represent something, or someone who stopped the warrior.  I was thinking one of the gods who brought the storm–"

"His guide," Blair breathed, his eyes widening.  "His shaman.  That's what it stands for!"

"What do you mean?" Derek demanded.

Blair paused to a moment to collect his thoughts, then explained, "In some of the literature dealing with sentinels there's a second figure mentioned.  A companion, or teacher, or guide, or brother–  You get the idea."

"Someone to guard the sentinel when he was too focused to protect himself," Derek guessed.  "That would make sense."

Blair nodded.  "But it's more than just that.  This companion helps keep his sentinel–"  He stopped, searching for the right word.  "Balanced," he said, not happy with the word, but it was good as he could do off the top of his head.  "It's a spiritual thing, too," he explained.

"Maybe that's it!" Yxta said, swinging back to the keyboard.  She typed and two sets of symbols appeared.  "Look," she said.  "On the left are the symbols for shaman and spiritual teachers.  On the right are the mystery phonograms from the artifact.  They're similar, but–"

"What are the symbols for compadres?" Blair asked.  "Hum, for guide–  Uh, partner?"

Yxta typed, pulling up additional symbols, but they too were only similar.

"Try guardian.  Bond-mate," Derek instructed.

Yxta found guardian, but then shook her head, "There's noting like bond mate, but these are the signs for spouse…  They don't match."

"I see where you're going," Blair said, his eyes bright with academic fervor.  "Yxta, try anything like soulmate or–"

"Wait, I know!"  She typed and a symbol appeared.  "That's it!  Look."  She clicked on the "shaman" and "guardian" symbols, and then last one she had pulled up, superimposing them on one another to create two blended phonograms.

"That's it!" Blair said.  "Not exactly, but so close it has to be that."

"I would agree," Derek said, nodding.  "What is this symbol?" he asked, pointing to the last one she'd called up.

Yxta grinned.  "It doesn't really have an English translation," she said.  "It's like the bond or relationship men form when they survive a war together, but it's heavily overlaid with familial connotations, hmm, I suppose you could call him a brother warrior, or brother comrade-in-arms."

Blair felt his cheeks flush, but ignored it.  "Okay, so how does this 'brother warrior' fit into the story on the artifact?"

Yxta's smile faded.  "He's the one who defeats the warrior.  He kills him to save the people."  She looked up at Blair.  "It was his duty to the people, and the warrior.  That's why I thought he might be one of the minor deities, he consumes–" She looked back, interpreting the symbols with her new understanding.  "But I think he is also consumed."

"Quiet," Nick hissed from where he stood next to the door.

"What is it?" Derek asked softly.

"I think Ellison's on his way," Nick said, grabbing the door and pushing it closed.  "Can we lock this?" he asked.

Blair joined him, checking the lock.  "It's made to keep people out, not in," he said.  "But I could lock you in from out there."

"No," Derek said.  "It's you he's after."

"Me?" Blair asked, but he already understood.  "The sentinel's after revenge on the man who killed him," he said softly.  "And I'm the closest thing he's got."

A cry of pain echoed down the corridor.

"We have to clear this building," Derek snapped.

"Fire alarm," Yxta said.

Derek turned to her.  "You need to leave," he said.  "Pull the alarm on the way out."

"But–"

"Yxta, go!" Blair snapped.  "Casey'll kill me if anything happens to you."

The young woman hesitated for a moment, then nodded.  "All right, but please, be careful."  She grabbed her jacket and left, heading off in the opposite direction from the cry.  A few moment later the alarm sounded, echoing through the building followed by the sounds of conference rooms emptying out.

"That'll slow him down," Nick said with a grin.  "He won't be able to move unobserved until the building's cleared."

"Now what?" Blair asked.

"Now we wait for him to come to us," Derek said.  "And he will.  I'm sure of it."

"But I can't kill him," Blair said.  "Jim's my _friend_.  Besides, we don't have the amulet."

"Maybe we do," Derek said.  Leaving Nick at the door, he moved to the artifact.  Reaching out, he removed the small, semi-circular lid and held it up.  A carved circle attached on the top of the piece could easily accommodate a leather thong.

Images flashed through his mind: a second man, the amulet, the warrior lying on the ground, eyes open but unseeing.  The second warrior placed the amulet over the other man's heart and chanted…

"Okay, but what about the 'storm'?" Blair asked, interrupting the visions, then answered himself, "Wait!  His partner overwhelmed his senses – sight, sound and scent!  We have to find a way to overwhelm Jim's senses."  He rushed over to the closet and disappeared inside.

"You'd better hurry," Nick called.  "Sounds like the guards are trying to get him to leave, but he's not buyin' it."

Derek's gaze searched the cabinet-lined walls.  Spotting what he hoped could serve as their "flowers," he strode to one shelf and took down a liquid-filled brown bottle.

"Here," Blair said, stepping out of the closet.  He handed both men a portable spotlight, and accepted the amulet from Rayne.  "We use these when we're doing work in caves.  They're really bright.  Try not to shine them directly into Jim's eyes; I don't want to cause any permanent damage if I can help it."

Derek held up the bottle.  "Lights, flowers, all we need is sound."

"Look, what if this doesn't do the trick?" Nick asked. 

"It will," Blair snapped.  "It has to."  He looked to Derek.  "What do I do with the amulet?"

"I don't know," the man admitted.

"But–"

"When the time comes, you'll know what to do," Rayne assured.

"I hope you're right," Blair said, looking around the cluttered room.  "Sound!"

Carrying his light to one of the bookshelves, Blair used a chair to pull down an item from the top.  He held it up triumphantly.  "Gentlemen, a noise maker."

"What is it?" Nick asked.

Blair carried what looked like a huge metal comb over to the chalkboard that occupied half of one wall.  "You put pieces of chalk in these tines and you can draw grids on the board," he explained.  "But then it's empty…"  He pressed the tips of the metal wires against the board and scraped lightly.  A painful high-pitched shriek echoed in the room, worse than any fingernail applied to chalkboard could hope to be.

"That should do it," Derek said, cringing slightly.

"Sounds like he's on his way," Nick said, rubbing his ears.

"Derek," Blair said, pointing.  "Over there.  That'll flood the whole room with light."

Rayne took up his position, the bottle in one hand, the light in the other.

Blair set his light on the table next to the board, one hand resting ready to turn it one.  With his other hand, he held the grid-maker up, pressing the wire ends to the surface of the chalkboard.  "We have to hit him with it all at once," he said.  "If we can get him to zone-out he won't hurt anyone."

"I hope you're right," Nick said.  "Here he comes."

Blair could hear the steady stream of what had to be ancient Peruvian curses, and wished he could understand the language Jim was speaking.  As the man's voice grew louder, he swallowed hard and silently prayed Derek was right and he'd know what to do with the amulet.

"Derek!" Nick hissed, nodding.

Rayne looked, spotting the native man who had emerged from the shadows behind Sandburg.  "Blair," he said.  "Behind you."

Glancing over his shoulder, Blair gasped as the native warrior reached for him, saying something that sounded reassuring at the same time.  "Oh, man," he moaned.  "Not now…"

As the man's hand touched Blair's shoulder a flash of amber light strobed the room and Derek and Nick looked away.  Blair's head jerked back and his body spasmed once.

When the two Legacy members looked back at Blair, they were met by a glowing amber gaze.  "Blair?" Derek asked.

"Yeah, it's me," he said airily.  "But I'm, uh, not alone."

Any further questions were cut short when Jim stormed into the room, shouting in a language none of them could understand.

Without knowing what he was saying, Blair yelled back in the same language, then added in English, "Now!"

The three men switched on their lights.  Blair drew the grid-maker down along the chalkboard, the hideous sound shooting through their fillings and deafening all of them.  Derek hurled the bottle to the floor where it shattered, fumes from the solvent filling the room and choking them.

Jim's arms came up, trying to protect his eyes, but he also wanted to cover his ears to cut off the piercing shrill.  He gasped and choked, then screamed something unintelligible in any language.

Blair cried out in the Indian language, his voice taunting.

Jim took a step toward the graduate student, then collapsed to the floor and lay unmoving.

Dropping the grid-maker, Blair switched his light off, then bolted to Jim's side. Fumbling for the amulet in his shirt pocket, he fished it out and slapped it down over Jim's heart, chanting words he couldn't understand as tears streamed down his face.

A faint amber glow surrounded both their bodies, growing brighter as he continued to chant.  Slowly the glow coalesced into two glowing figures, one a jaguar, the other a large feathered serpent.  The two creatures fought silently, their bodies twisting around one another and passing through tables and other obstacles without a trace.

Blair continued chanting, his voice becoming hoarse and thick from the fumes.

The serpent coiled and struck, and the three men watched in wonder as the feathered spirit-reptile slowly consumed the jaguar.  Its meal complete, wings unfolded from the sides of its feathered body and it rose into the air where it hung for a moment before diving back into the artifact.

Derek rushed to the five-sided urn and separated the pieces.  He scooped up the fragment he had brought and dropped it into his pocket, then reached for Beaumont's section, tucking it into the opposite pocket.

Jim moaned, then blinked, his eyes opening.  "Chief?"

"Yeah, Jim," Blair said, helping his friend to sit up.  "I'm right here.  Come on, we've got to get out of here."

Nick and Blair helped Jim to his feet.

As they turned to leave three firemen stepped into the room.  "Whoa!  We found the problem," one of the men said.

"Yeah," Blair said thinking fast as he moved with Nick and Jim toward the door.  "Broke a bottle of solvent."

"You guys get out of here," another of the firemen said.  "We'll take it from here."

They stepped into the hallway, and headed for the nearest exit.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sitting outside the building, Jim drew in deep lungfuls of the cool night air, clearing his head and easing his burning lungs.  Sitting next to him, Blair did the same, a protective hand resting on the sentinel's back.

"What the hell happened, Chief?" Jim asked softly.

Blair looked up at his friend.  "You were possessed, man."

Jim thought a moment, then nodded.  "I remember.  I was at the crime scene and I saw him."

"The sentinel?"

Jim nodded, noticing that Rayne and his friend had moved closer to hear his story.  With a sigh he continued.  "There was a flash of light and the next thing I knew I was trapped in my own mind.  I could see what he was doing, but I couldn't stop him."

"That scream?" Nick asked.

Jim shook his head.  "There was a woman.  I think he was going to kill her, but I couldn't let that happen.  I think he literally took a half-step out of my body.  She screamed and fainted."

Blair snorted.  "Lucky it didn't scare her to death."

"He was hunting you," Jim said, looking at his guide.  "He wanted to kill you."

"Because I am to you what the man who killed him was to him."

Jim let the words and meaning sink in.  He looked sharply to Nick and Derek.

"It's all right," Derek said.  "We know how to keep secrets."

Jim felt his face redden, but what could he say?  He looked back to Blair.  "I tried to stop him, but I couldn't do anything," he said softly.  "When the lights came on–  And what the hell was that sound?"

Blair laughed.  "Remind me and I'll show you."

Jim shook his head.  "No, thanks, but that damned thing nearly drove me crazy.  I could see the man with you.  They were arguing.  And then all of a sudden I felt myself falling."

"You did," Nick supplied.  "To the floor."

Jim rubbed his shoulder.  "That explains that.  I knew they were fighting, but I couldn't see them."

"Oh, man, you should've seen what we did," Blair said enthusiastically.  "It was incredible!"

"Then everything went black and I woke up when the firemen came in."  Jim looked around at the gathered crowd of people who had evacuated the building.  "Is he gone?"

"Yes," Derek assured.  "He's trapped where he was before the artifact was reassembled."

"So that thing was some kind of doorway?" Jim asked.

Derek nodded.  "Between this world and another."

Jim rubbed at the back of his neck.  His muscles ached, but at least the headache was gone.  "As long as he stays off this one I don't care."

A paramedic walked up to join them, asking questions and checking them over.  When they were done, they escorted Jim to an ambulance close by and handed him an oxygen mask.  Blair watched as his friend drew in several deep breaths before the medics listened to his chest again.

Glancing down, he realized he'd been holding something in his hand.  He forced his fingers to relax, then opened his hand to find the amulet.  The obsidian glinted in the night, catching the lights from the fire trucks.  He held it out to Derek. "Here."

"No," the man said.  "You keep that."

"But–"

"The Luna Foundation will see to it that the university is given an amount they cannot refuse for their section of the urn.  It will be well protected.  But that piece, I think you should keep."

Blair stared at the surface, noting for the first time the two figures carved there: a feathered serpent and a jaguar.  "It was his duty," he said softly.  "To protect the people when his friend slipped over the edge."  He looked up, meeting Derek's gaze.  "But why did that happen?"

Derek shrugged.  "I don't know.  Perhaps you will find that out as Yxta translates the remainder of the phonograms."

Blair nodded.  "And if it's something that might happen to Jim?"

Derek reached out, resting a hand on the younger man's shoulder.  "Then you will do what you have to do."

"I don't know if I can do that," Blair said softly.  "I don't know."

"You will do what you have to," Derek assured.  "I'm sure of it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

_Philip and Yxta completed the translation three weeks later.  The story is the one I suspected.  The warrior, with all of his magnificent gifts, grew tired of protecting the people of his village.  Slowly, over time, he saw his gifts as a way to gain power over the others.  The villagers in turn came to fear and hate him.  They cursed him and refused to look at him, or allow him into their homes.  He became a stranger among the only people he knew.  Then the killings began._

_His "guide" as Sandburg calls the sentinel's "brother warrior" tried to stop him, but it was too late.  And in the end the "guide" did the only thing he could.  He accepted his duty and destroyed the evil killing his people.  There was really nothing else he could do.  Both the warrior and his companion were sworn to the service of the people._

_It is hard to imagine two such men living in today's world, and yet there are at least two.  And if Ellison and Sandburg are out there, how many others are there?_

_I have passed along a report to the London House.  Sandburg should be watched.  He would make a fine addition to the Seattle Legacy House.  And if anything should happen to Ellison, that may be all that stands between the man and madness._

_Even now I believe they could be useful members of the Legacy, if properly recruited.  It is a task I look forward to pursuing._

Derek Rayne laid aside his pen and leaned back to stretch his tight back muscles.  A small smile played across his lips.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Jim shook his head.  "That's some story," he said.

Yxta smiled.  "Well, it's one we never would have deciphered if it hadn't been for Dr. Rayne and Father Callahan."  She checked her watch, then stood.  "I have to go.  I'm meeting Casey for lunch."  Extending a hand to Jim, she said, "It's been nice getting to know you, Detective Ellison."

"Call me Jim," he said, flashing her his best smile.

Blair stifled a giggle.  "Thanks, Yxta.  This'll be a great addition to my dissertation.  It corroborates a few claims I've made."

"Too bad you can't use the whole story."

"Tell me about it," he said with a sigh.

"Okay, I'll see you later," she said, heading out the door.

Jim watched her go, then glanced around the workroom.  The images of his possession were already fading, the memories more like a dream now.  Still, he couldn't deny what had happened, or what the new necklace his guide wore stood for.

Reaching out, he gripped Sandburg's shoulder.  "So, what do you say we go get something to eat, too?"

"Sounds good," Blair said, smiling.

They stood and headed for the door, Jim adding, "You know, maybe you should ask her out."

"Who?"

"Yxta.  She's a big step up from your usual dates."

Blair laughed, shaking his head.  "Oh, no, man.  Not me."

"Why not?"

Blair held the door open for Jim to exit, then shut and set the electronic code. "Because the lady's taken, that's why."

Jim shook his head.  "Lucky guy."

"No, lucky _lady_."

Jim's eyes widened.  "Oh."

"So," Blair said, grinning.  "What's Simon going to do about the murders?"

"The case will remain open," he said as they headed outside the building and to the waiting truck.  "Beaumont's group in Paris took it a lot better than anyone expected.  And to be honest, that was the one the Chief was the most worried about."

"He didn't want an 'international incident' on his hands?" Blair asked, then added, "I've always wanted to say that."

"Something like that," Jim replied with a thin smile.  He shook his head.  "But I feel sorry for the families of the other victims."

"Yeah," Blair admitted.  "It's too bad we can't tell them the truth."

"Who'd believe a story like that?"

Blair climbed into the truck and pulled the door shut.  He waited for Jim to slide behind the wheel before saying, "I don't know, but if you can come around, anyone can."

Jim started the engine, casting a sidelong look at his partner before he pulled away from the curb.  "What're you saying, Chief?  That's I'm close-minded?"

"Well, not exactly.  But you have to admit, you're not the most open-minded guy around."

"Oh, yeah?  And I suppose you'd like it if I was more like you?"

"Well–"

"Gullible, naive, fantasy–"

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a good fantasy," Blair countered.  "That's only way you'll ever get a date with Yxta."

"Don't try to change the subject, Chief…"

The End


End file.
